Sneeze and Make Up
by Mad Server
Summary: Dean gives him a nervous glance, then sniffles and shrugs.  "What, you're calling me a liar?"  Slash.


Sneeze and Make Up

Prompt: _Sam/Dean (or more specifically, sneezy Dean/ sneeze-kink Sam). Sam and Dean are having a fight, probably about something stupid, but Sam is mad at Dean, who's getting sick. Dean tries to apologize, and he uses his helpful sneeziness, which works to his advantage because Sam eventually gives in and forgives him/ loves him up with Kleenex and such. It's like make up (sex/) sneezytimes._

A/N: _ME: Why could Sam be mad at Dean? LIA: Here are twenty-eight very good reasons. ME: Good God yes. _

A/N 2: _ME: I feel like there are parts where this is not good. TWIRLYCURLS: Here are some, and also eighteen parts that I love. ME: Awww yeah._

A/N 3: _ME: Here's my new draft. Help. ENKIDU: Even though I have no computer, of course I can instantly beta this for you! And here it is back with many delicious suggestions. ME: Whoa._

:::

"Pump three," Sam says, tossing a package of trail mix onto the counter beside the two steaming cups of coffee.

Dean holds up a bag of Doritos the size of his torso and slaps down a fifty. "I got it."

Sam eyeballs him. "Thought you were out of cash."

"I was," Dean chuckles, shouldering out the door. "Found some on the floor when I was cleaning out the car. Can you believe it?"

"Not really."

Dean gives him a nervous glance, then sniffles and shrugs. "What, you're calling me a liar?"

"You would've told me the second you found it." Drawing up beside the Impala, Sam pulls out his money clip.

"Oh, so you think I'm a thief. That's great, Sam."

"Okay," Sam blushes, stuffing it away. "So you didn't take it from me. What, did you sell basil as pot again?"

Dean's eyes light up. "Oh my god, I should have."

Sam rubs his face.

Dean drops his chips into the backseat and takes a sip of coffee, sizing Sam up across the roof. "C'mon. We got places to be."

"We really don't." Sam waves the pack of nuts out beside him, lets it drop against his thigh. "Tell me you didn't swindle another old lady. The Plant card and the Bowie card are still good, man."

"That was..." Dean rolls his eyes and prods his nose with his wrist. Sam watches it redden.

"Look. I won it for an art project, okay? A little contest. No harm, no foul."

"Art?" Sam narrows his eyes. "You made art."

"Don't act so shocked. Eesh. You could hurt a guy's feelings."

Sam shifts warily. "Wait, like... like a painting or something? What'd you do?"

"The details aren't important."

"I think they are." Sam's eyes flick to Dean's flushed nostrils. "Seriously, you like, expressed yourself on the page?"

Dean squints and looks away, breath hitching. Sam swallows. Shaking his head, Dean snorts out a breath like an antsy stallion. "Hoo. Yeah, I uh, there was paper."

Sam sets his snack on top of the car and rests his arms on the warm metal. "I wanna see."

"I know, baby," Dean winks, snuffling against his thumb. "All in good time."

"No, I mean the art."

"Oh." Dean ducks his head, comes back up with a strained grin. "Naw."

Sam contemplates his lips. "Are you bullshitting me?"

"No. Come on. It's just..." Dean breathes out a chuckle. "It's not that good, you know?"

"I thought you said it won."

"Yeah, well... it's embarrassing, is all."

"Dean... if you actually made art..." Sam circles around the car, close enough his knuckles trail against it, "that's amazing." He studies Dean's tired eyes. "And hot." He picks a stray hair off Dean's jacket. "And I'm proud of you. And I want to see."

Dean frowns into his coffee. "Great. Maybe later I'll sneak you a peek."

"Hey." Sam settles his palms on Dean's waist and kneads him through the rough fabric. "No smartassery. I promise."

Dean stands his coffee on the shiny black roof and slips his fingers into Sam's back pockets, scoops him in close. "I trust you."

"Then show me," Sam murmurs into his hot forehead. "I won't laugh."

Sniffling fruitlessly, Dean sighs and takes a breath through his mouth. He nips Sam's chin. "I dunno."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

Dean leans in close, exhaling moist air against Sam's lips. Sam strokes an encouraging thumb over his ribcage. Then Dean falters. He steps back with a sigh and pushes his hands through his hair. "Damnit."

"What?" Sam scans him, concerned.

"You're rubbing off on me."

"Dude. What?"

Dean gazes at Sam's crotch, then raises bleak eyes. "I am not getting laid."

"You're not... oh." Sam bristles. "Because...?"

"Imunnaknmknsht."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Dean clenches his jaw. "It. Was. A. Coloring. Contest."

"A..." Sam's face heats up. "You didn't."

"I did."

"A coloring contest? For kids?"

"Ages eight and under."

Sam huffs out a laugh. "That's just... even for you, that's..."

"Brilliant? Let's go with brilliant."

"Disgusting." Sam staggers back a step. "You competed with five-year-olds for money?"

"It was like taking candy from a baby," Dean smiles hopefully.

Sam gapes. "Ugh. Let's just go." He sloshes his coffee and burns himself. "Damnit."

"Sam..."

Sam gets into the passenger seat and slams the door, sucking on his scalded hand.

"Son of a bitch." Dean opens the driver's side door and leans inside. "You okay?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Sam, I'm sorry." Dean pulls a napkin out of his jacket pocket and half-kneels on the seat to dab Sam's red skin. "You need a popsicle on that?"

"I'm fine."

"'Cause here they've got... _hih_..._"_ Dean hunches, jamming two fingers up under quivering nostrils. Sam stares. _"Ihh..."_ Sam slips the napkin back into Dean's hand, watches his chest heave. "EH-HIH-_XXHZHZHSHSH!" _

"Huh." Sam passes his palm over his mouth. "Mhh."

Dean blows his nose, then drops into his seat with an exhausted thump. "Ahh. That was a good one."

"Yeah, it... I mean no. No, man, you took candy from babies."

"Their parents probably just woulda spent it on something stupid anyway."

"Like junk food?"

"Man, we're out here, okay? We're saving lives, and nobody's paying us to do it. If we hadn't been here, maybe that kid would've died."

"The contest-winning kid."

"Right."

"Who doesn't exist, because of you."

"Are you listening to... ehh-_HH..." _

Sam squirms as Dean's pink nostrils flare. "I really am."

_"HHH..."_

"Why do you have to be sexy when I'm trying to be mad at you?"

Dean clutches the napkin to his red nose and jerks with another inhale. _"TZHZHZHSHSHOOOO!"_

"Ohh, damnit." Sam slides across the seat and pats Dean's thigh. Dean sniffs pitifully.

"Okay. We gotta eat. I get it." Sam traces the button on Dean's jeans. "You're an asshole, but I get it." From his own pocket, he produces a tissue and blots Dean's gleaming nostrils. "You sound like shit. You're comin' down with something, huh?"

Dean's chilly hand finds the base of Sam's spine under his pants. His breath catches again, eyes going shiny. "I'll give you a full-color illustration."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam grazes his feverish temple with his lips, sucks hard on his neck just behind his ear. "An original work this time?"

Dean hauls Sam into his lap and grinds up. "Ngh. Eighteen-plus. It's my strongest category." He nuzzles Sam's nipple through his shirt, then grunts and presses in hard. _"HHHH... _AHH-_HXXTCHHCHH!" _The release jostles Sam into the steering wheel. "Sorry." Dean clamps a hand over his mouth and nose, soothes the other over Sam's thrumming shoulder blades. "Sorry. I... HH-_HGGTKETCHCHH!"_

Sam gently chafes Dean's chest, fumbles for their flies. "No," he breathes. "This is one thing you don't have to be sorry for." He kisses the flushed shaft of Dean's nose and guides his palm down. "Ever."


End file.
